


The Hunting Pack

by ThePhantomInTheTypewriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Comedy, Dark Comedy, F/M, Impregnation, Lizardmen, Multi, Other, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 06:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22740439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePhantomInTheTypewriter/pseuds/ThePhantomInTheTypewriter
Summary: (Ported over from Hentai Foundry)The odd yet amusing tale of a large band of lizardmen working to take down a country that oppresses monsters, and have some fun along the way.
Kudos: 8





	1. A Meeting Interrupted

**Author's Note:**

> So, some people may recognize this story, and for those who do...well bravo. This story, as I've said a few times, has been ported over from my Hentai Foundry profile and, as a result, is VERY explicit in design and origin. I've recently opted to move it here through discussions with some friends and, so, here's this weirdness. It's been a while since I've last used this site, considering I have an alt account here for SFW content, so please forgive me for any errors and mistakes. And enjoy!

The Leaking Tankard; a decent tavern situated in a more distant town, with a record of having the cheapest, strongest drinks in all of the lands when compared to the others. It was also known for being a variable hotspot for heroes, adventurers, and even the likes of hunters as well; they didn’t care about the customer’s background. If they had the Coin, they were fine.

Evident now; the night sky was clear through one of the wooden tavern’s many windows. People drank, dined, and conversed all around, as scantily clad tavern maidens walked to and fro; delivering food to men and smiling in mock gratitude when said men repaid them with pinches, gropes, and swats to their rears when the chance was provided.

Often, said men earned a slap in return.

In the corner, a party of four dined and relaxed as well, having just got back from a rather time-consuming job to go pilfer a scepter from a sunken temple…standard thing, really.

“So, Doull, what was your intent with your share of the money?” The woman looked up from her mutton when her leg was called. She stood at a sweltering six feet in height, borderline seven, with fair, crème colored skin and firm, toned muscles; retaining just the barest hint of softness to give her both an intimidating, yet equally alluring look. Her oak brown hair was bound by a gold colored hairband around her head, and her hands were clad in thick, brown leather gloves, as her feet had brown boots as well. Her attire reflected her Amazonian lifestyle; a red tube top that struggled to contain her massive, head sized breasts, and a loincloth that just barely concealed her nethers and rear, though with every shift and motion she made in her small wooden chair, it threatened to give someone quite a show. Her brow was scrunched in concentration, and her firm lips were always in a line; steel colored eyes focused forward, though for now, they were focused on the one who asked her the question; the woman swallowing down a mouthful of meat before responding in a haughty, harsh tone.

“Meh, prob’ buy some drinks, git drunk, ‘n black out somewhere ‘fter a night’ve debauchery and fun. Whaddya bout ya, Famon?” This next person was clearly a male, though at least a solid head or two shorter than the Amazon. A stout male, of average height and muscle, Famon looked like the sort of man most would avoid conflict with. His hair was a black color, and cut very short, though his mustache was a short, slightly curled one on his face. His skin was a peach color, with his armor designed for optimum movement; a few black leather plates covering his shoulders and forearms along with a pair of teal pants and brown hide boots. Weapons-wise, he was armed with a lengthy, two-pronged trident, and a net in the other hand, meant for impairing movement of enemies, clearly. He was a bit more relaxed than others, though clearly, he took his role as a Bounty Hunter seriously.

“Me?” He finally asked in his gruff tone, tipping his metal tankard back and taking a lengthy swig from it, sighing afterwards. “I’ll invest into trading again before picking up some bounties. With it being close to spring, monster populations are back on the rise. Means Bounty Hunters like me have a lotta coin to be earned. You plan to do the same, Ninc?” The man in question was a bit shorter, and mostly concealed behind a black, hooded shroud that left his leg revealed; his grey pants and boots made from cloth. The serrated dagger he left stabbed into the table gave away his Assassin lifestyle, though aside from that, not much was clear about Ninc, aside from his pale flesh.

“I plan to buy an estate or at least invest into stocks.” Betraying his youth, his voice was much higher and lighter than Famon’s by a good margin, as he ran his thumb along the pommel of his dagger. “But, Monster slaying is always a treat.”

“For you, but I can’t imagine myself submitting to such a position.” The final member of their party made herself known; Voss. The clear anthesis to the Amazon; this woman had snow white skin, and greyed hair, that hung down to her lower back, yet she didn't look a day over twenty or thirty. Her outfit was a violet and red dress that exposed quite a bit of cleavage, and the way it hugged her curves left little to the imagination as well, though the woman did hold a wooden staff with a skull tipping it, showing that she was a spellcaster of sorts; a Sorceress. Her cerulean eyes contained a certain glint to them; one that spoke that she knew what was going on…and would clearly face a problem without fear, not from bravery, but confidence. She nursed a cup of warm tea, exhaling with a fruity, husky voice, laden with seductive intent behind it. “Slaying such filth and then going on to slay more; a good spell and they’re all dealt with, anyhow.”

“True, but there’s a certain fun in tracking prey and silencing them. The thrill of the hunt, y’know.” Famon didn’t seem all too offended by her crude remark, though Doull did glance about, hearing the approaching footsteps of an approaching tavern maid.

“Oi, bar wench,” The woman winced when the Amazon’s hand came down on her rear, catching her focus and leaving a red print. “Gimme some jobs. I could use som’ spendin’ money for later.”

“O-Oh, well…there’s a bounty out on some bandits. Recently set up camp in the nearby Barrow and the militia isn’t dealing with it. T-The benefactor’s willing to pay handsomely for their deaths.”

“We’re in. Everyone, drink and eat up and we’ll get a move on. Dangerous to take on bandits at night but, I’m game.” The party dined and drank quickly, eager to get to work on their latest job, as the wench sauntered away, holding her abused rear with a sigh.

Yet out of all of them, Famon couldn’t shake the feeling as if something were…amiss. Said feeling he shrugged off, as to be expected.

________________________________________

“Well, we’re nearing the location of the bandit gang,” Ninc muttered; the Assassin dropping down from a tree, having been scouting out for any patrols from the bandits.

“I used my Darkvision Spell but I didn’t see any of their goons moving about. Either they’re resting for the night, or they know we’re coming.”

“Psh, if they knew we were comin’, they’d have sent some fuckers to come challenge us. I don’ see shit.” Doull spoke, leaned against a tree, with her battle axe in hand, a bored and dismissive look on her face. “Voss! Can’tcha do your magic bullshit ‘n find ‘em?”

“Well, it’s clear that all your brains went to your breasts, Doull; my magic’s powerful but none of my spells are equipped to detect living beings; just traps and Monsters. Even so, that sort of Spell is easy to fool, with the right amount of charming.”

“Sounds like ya ain’ tryin’ hard enough.”

“And it sounds like you both need to be silent. We’re moving.” Famon quieted their bickering, as the four of them advanced for the camp, trekking through the darkness laden forest as they approached the camp slowly…though all of them smelt it in the air…the unmistakable, coppery scent.

Blood. Something or someone died recently, and nearby.

Famon was first into the clearing, and he winced at the scene…as did the others.  
The camp was a few tents and a campfire in the center, with the fire of the campfire just beginning to die out. However, there were eight bodies slumped on the ground and against trees; the hide-clad men all dead…save for one. One of the bandits clung to life, slumped against an oak tree, gasping for air.

“…well…they killed themselves for us…don’…don’ know how to feel ‘bout that.” Doull muttered, rubbing her head, as Ninc approached the dying man, dagger in hand.

“Who did this? What attacked your camp. Speak; there’s nothing gained from holding your tongue.”

Surprisingly, the bandit’s lips parted, and with rasped breath, he spoke.

“They…came outta nowhere. Lizard…men.”

“Lizardmen? That doesn’t make any sense.” Ninc’s words spurred the bandit on to speak, as if he retained the last bit of his strength for this very moment.

“I do not lie, Assassin; they attacked my camp and…slaughtered us. They were…fucking coordinated; as if they had a plan beforehand. We didn’t stand a chance. We didn’t even bring down one of those scaled bastards. They may…still lurk in the area…don’t…fall, like we did.”

And at last, the man was gone, Ninc giving him the respect of closing his eyes and uttering a silent prayer for him.

“So…lizardmen…that’s new.”

“It doesn’t make any logical sense,” Famon spoke, as he started to walk around, net slung over his shoulder and trident in hand, the Bounty Hunter observing the scene, seeking out evidence and other things. “Lizardmen couldn’t have done this.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

“Lizardmen don’t come anywhere near human encampments, and even then, they’re not native to this area aside from the usual wanderer. And you heard him; these didn’t even kill one.”

“So?”

“Lizardmen aren’t intelligent by any measure; they’re monsters prone to attacking towns and either pillaging the food or raping the women. They’re also prone to making the same mistakes in combat and that makes it easy to disarm one and slay him, and also they tend to be armed with rudimentary, feeble equipment they ripped from the hands of a corpse. Even bandits can bring one down with bows and such. And you heard him…they had a plan.”

“Everyone plans, Famon, what are—”

“Lizardmen are savage and tribal; their only plan while fighting is group up and hit someone ‘til it dies. Here? These ones did just that and more; they were unified. Focused. Coordinated.” Silence befell the party, as Ninc spoke up, flicking his dagger.

“So…what do we do? Tell the nearby Hero Guild there’s a bunch of roaming Lizardmen attacking bandits? They’ll most likely let it go and--URK!” The Assassin went silent when he was struck by something. Panic swept over them, as Ninc rolled to a sitting position, realizing that there was something wrapped around his legs.

A pair of bolas.

“We’re under attack!” Doull’s axe was in hand as Voss hefted her staff up; Famon moving instead to try and free Ninc…and then the bushes rustled.

Something sprang forth, and blurring pain filled the Bounty Hunter’s head as he found himself on his back, spinning and trying to recollect himself.

When he did, Famon was able to see just what attacked them.

Clear as day, it was a lizardman. The scaled beast stood at least six feet in height, with muscled arms, and caved in shins forming a joint, digitigrade even, as its hands were tipped with black talons. The beast’s scales were onyx black, and in each hand, it held a stone axe; the head being black serrated obsidian as the rest was wood. What was disturbing also about the axes, was each handle had an obsidian spike there; they were meant for stabbing. The Lizardman wore little armor, consisting of a left spaulder, two poleyns, a pair of burlap trousers, and a set of gauntlets all sharing the trend of being made from hardened leather, allowing the four to gaze upon every muscle in his body as he stared them down, exhaling slowly, with his serpentine, crimson eyes filled with nothing but hatred.

It was almost as if their mere existence made him livid; a Berserker, no doubt.

“Oh? One of the wretched beasts makes itself known,” Voss chided, as she leveled her staff with the lizardman’s head. “Good; could use a pair of boots from it—”

Twip!

In a flash, her staff was out of her hand and on the ground; an arrow lodged into it, cutting her off from her magic and disarming her at the same time. Famon’s trident was lifted, and from the bushes, something else emerged; clearly another Lizardman, though this one was different. Where the first one was onyx, this one had deep, cerulean scales, and was more muscular as well; scaled hide struggling to contain his bulging muscles. A breastplate made from dry, yellow bone covered his chest, along with gauntlets, greaves, poleyns, cuisses, and even faulds too; a brown loincloth covering his front. The top of his head was covered in a helmet made from the skull of some sort of horned, frilled beast; masking much of his head, yet it kept his twin amber eyes revealed, staring the group down with a mixture of hatred, and amusement…a sickening blend. In his hand, he held a weapon Famon couldn’t accurately recognize, but it looked like some sort of large, wooden greatsword, but the “blade” for it was lined with obsidian shards in it, giving it both a sense of tribal primality, yet at the same time brutal efficiency. It was clear in an instant; this one was their team leader, their commander…their Alpha.

“Everyone stay on alert,” The Bounty Hunter tightened his grip on his trident. “That big one’s the leader, kill him first.”

“As if you could…” The voice that came was not one of theirs; deep and bass, while at the same time guttural, like each word was a snarl. The man was…shocked to come to the realization that it was in fact the Lizardman who had spoken, not one of his party.

“You’re intelligent enough to speak, beast?”

“I’m intelligent enough to do a lot of things.” His hand lifted, and the scaled flesh rubbed together to produce a sharp pop; a snap of the fingers.

Twip!

Another arrow, and now it pinned Ninc to a tree by his shroud, the Assassin cursing the entire time as well! This was something Famon wasn’t prepared for, nor expected. He expected the result of the increased intelligence in the Lizardmen to be the result of some sort of curse or a spell planted by a maddened Warlock or something…but not something as simple as one suddenly getting smarter, and others doing the same.

Still, there would be time to evaluate the logistics of this…surviving the fight was more important. Another Lizardman made itself known; this one far wiry and slenderer, and with a yellow underbelly. His eyes were the same amber color as the leaders, although wider, and quickly darting around. He was also unarmored like the black scaled one, wearing only a pair of hide trousers, though he had a few belts and sashes on his body, containing various tools such as a spyglass, small bags of items, and other things. What stood out about him was the tip of his tail was striped, mixing between black and yellow bandings, as well as the end of his snout being a black color as well. In terms of weapons, this Lizardman held a brown, wooden shortbow, and on his back a machete was sheathed as well, next to a leather quiver of arrows. It didn’t take a genius to see this one was the Archer of sorts; even with creatures such as Lizardmen, they still filled vital roles without hesitation.

“Doull, go for the little one! Kill at least one of these bastards to cull their numbe—” Famon didn’t even get a chance to finish; in a split second, he found his trident away and lodged in a tree.

“While I have to admire such a useful weapon,” A lizardman dropped down from seemingly nowhere, shaking himself off. His armor was rather simple; a leather spaulder on his right shoulder, and faulds from the same brown material, with a single loincloth covering his front; feathers and pelts adorning his shoulders of various colors. He held a staff of some sort, with the head of it adorned with multicolored feathers at one head, and an avian’s skull at the other. His scales were a very deep indigo color, underbelly included, making it hard to notice him, and his eyes were a darker blue color. Oddly, adorning his back and head were sharp, keratin spikes, much like quills, though they looked soft to the touch, despite how they appeared. The Bounty Hunter was able to guess he was some sort of shaman…but a very unorthodox one. “It’s user, is something worthless altogether, unfortunately.” His voice was not guttural, but instead it was…baritone, and calm, melodic, almost.

Still, their troubles multiplied. Now, there were four lizardmen, all showing a higher sense of competence when compared to the normal ones. They needed a plan and—

“I wanna make some gear from the big one!” Or, Doull could abandon all restraint and rush forward to attack. The Berserker-esque one looked like he was going to attack, but the large one lifted a hand to halt his approach, dragging his own talons across his wooden sword.

“Ease yourself, Brox…you’ll have your chance in a moment. But, let me deal with the human…show them what they trifle with.” Famon, honestly, expected him to fail. In all his years Bounty Hunting, whenever someone said those words, they were setting themselves up to fail bitterly, and then die both humiliated, and at the same time terror.

The Alpha shot in front of Doull in the blink of an eye; one hand grasping her axe and twisting it to the left, and the other planting itself firmly into her stomach, sending her to the ground, disarmed as well as the axe was tossed into the bushes, discarded. The way he moved, it practically screamed decades of experience and training…experience that put Famon’s two decades of experience to fucking shame.

What the hell kind of lizardman was this?

“Doull, are you okay?!”

“I’d worry about yourself over her,” Famon turned, just in time to feel all the air leave him, as an armored knee was driven into his gut, sending him to the forest floor as well. “There are plans for you all; plans we’re not going to toss aside.”

“What the-ugh-hell do you want with us?” Silence rang out, the only sound the Bounty Hunter could hear being the steady **_boof boof boof_** of the scaled monster pacing around him, slowly.

Like a predator circling its helpless prey.

“What we what is something you are not allowed to know…all that I will give you is some info; you are not required for what comes next.” A scaled hand clamped down on the back of his neck, and he was lifted, forced to stare into the cold, scaled eye of the Alpha…the eye that contained something different from the cold, reptilian stare normal lizardmen held.

His eyes held passion; a burning flame like no other. But, would it be used to create something great…or burn down so much more?

“I, am Tratasz, Chieftain of this pack…and my face will be the last thing your eyes ever see.” And then, his hand started to squeeze…the Bounty Hunter realizing too late that the breath he took was his final one.

________________________________________

Ninc was…petrified, at what was going on. The assassin rarely felt fear but now? He basically sweated it! His legs were still tangled, and the arrow kept him pinned to the tree, as the pale man tried his best to quickly dislodge himself from the tree, as he watched the Alpha toss aside Famon’s corpse; neck twisted at a profound angle, that clearly communicated that he was dead long before he hit the ground. Voss was petrified in fear, Doull on the ground, and him unable to move…they were in a very bad spot.

A deadly one, rather.

“Sad, that one was clearly the intelligent one,” The shaman moved over to the deceased corpse of the Bounty Hunter, tapping him with his staff, though from what the assassin could see that Lizardman seemed to rely on the tool for a walking stick, though this seemed purely for cosmetic purposes; him leaping down from nowhere proved he could clearly walk and move with fluid ease. “Do you think he knew of your legacy, Tratasz?”

“I doubt it, Qrot; the war was quite some time ago. I doubt the humans will remember one harbinger.” The leader motioned for the archer to rummage through Famon’s dead corpse; pilfering what he had and taking it…they were no better than common bandits. “Now, what to do with these three…”

“I say we slaughter them,” Ninc’s blood thinned, especially when he felt the jagged edge of the Berserker’s obsidian edged axe at his exposed neck, the guttural voice dripping with frantic rage. “These vile creatures have no use to us.”

“They do not, Brox…but we can give them a use. Gazzu, do you have one?” The one pilfering the corpse of his friend darted his head up, and nodded earnestly, digging into a bag on his belt to toss the leader some sort of dirty vial. It was filled with a surreal liquid; emerald colored with silvery swirls. When the cork was popped, the smell that assaulted the assassin’s nose was that of pea soup…an almost assuring scent, though he knew clearly that was not the case. The leader knelt down next to Doull’s unconscious form, and with sudden force he brought his hand down on her chest; forcing a cry of pain from the Amazon’s mouth…just in time for him to dump some of the vial’s contents down into her mouth, before clamping her mouth shut, forcing her to swallow it down.

The brave warrior’s sudden convulsing told Ninc whatever that stuff was, it was dangerous.

“Shhh…let it happen…let it overtake your mind…” The shaman whispered, kneeling down next to the Amazon and pressing two fingers to her temple, being very gentle due to his claws. The assassin could see it; a faint blue glow where his fingers touched…he was doing something to her. “Bend Will.” Ninc was…confused. He knew that spell; it fell into the Illusion Category but…that spell didn’t normally work on beings with sentient minds.

“Voss, why’d he use that spell? I know Doull’s daft but—”

“Those clever monsters…” She cut him off, of course, but her next words were chilling. “Bend Will doesn’t work on those with sentient minds…so they used a Mindwipe Drought.”

“A what?”

“Mindwipe Drought…in a low volume, it can be used to remove memories from the brain, for use to help tormented minds. But, they gave her beyond the lowest volume.”

“And?”

“Too much, and it will destroy a sentient mind…for a time…”

“Render them vulnerable to the spell…they’re controlling her?”

“Correction, controlling all of you.” Voss didn’t last a second; a scaled hand clamped down on her neck, and she was pinned to a tree alongside Ninc, by the hand of the Alpha. “This will happen, one way or another. Your compliance is honestly voluntary here.” The fear in Voss’ eyes made Ninc panic…the same crippling fear that shackled him, now shackled her too; they weren’t going to be killed.

They were going to have their very will whittled away, and stolen from them.

Voss didn’t last long; the second she screamed, the potion was dumped into her mouth and a squeeze forced her to swallow it down before she was roughly thrown to the ground, Ninc watching in horror as the same convulsions Doull had gone through, and like before the shaman was upon her in moments, bending her will as well. Ninc was…petrified from the scene, and that escalated and mounted when the Alpha rose, eyes soon shifting to focus on him.

“You are spared, for the time; while we do need someone to use as a relay…we’re out of Mindwipe Drought. Therefore, you are allowed to remain there, until we get some more—”

“Tratasz, can we not defile them?” The Archer piped up, as the scaled bastard so carelessly caressed one of Doull’s breasts. His voice was very sibilant, unlike the others, raspy almost. “Their minds are ours anyhow…they ain’t gonna remember it.” Ninc was flabbergasted; that fucker just voted to rape his remaining friends…but…surely this leader had a bit more respect than that—

“Fine, go ahead.” And thus, his ideals were dashed. “We can still work with them. Qrot, give them a spell that would render them lust drunken; I’m going to go sit idle for this. Brox, you may join.”

“Tch, as if I want to lower myself to copulating with mere humans—”

“It’s an order, then. All that anger is bad for your health; even I know this. Go take the Amazon, she may enjoy your seed in her.” The Berserker snorted, thrashing his tail on the ground, before he tossed his axes down.

“So be it, Qrot; rend her mind and make it suitable.”

“It’s already been done, so it seems our friend here will be treated to a show.” Ninc was…unable to process the events at hand. The archer one had moved to grope and paw at Voss’ chest, kneading her firm breasts and giving them a few squeezes, eliciting a few breathy moans from the sorceress. Doull was in the same state, though her aggressor was more violent; leaving thin red lines on her breasts after he squeezed, the Berserker being first to rip away her top, revealing her sensitive, cherry pink nipples; inverted as well, almost cutely as well. They were pinched, pulled and twisted; all earning moans and fidgeting from the half-conscious girl. Voss wasn’t so fortunate; she was entirely awake, another husky moan escaping her as her dress was hiked up, and soon pooled around her waist, revealing that the entire time the pale woman had chosen to wear no undergarments; her glistening slit exposed before the ravenous reptiles.

“Check it out, this one’s already soaked!” The jeers were harrowing to hear, especially as the archer carelessly placed himself between Voss’ legs, scaled maw twisted into a lecherous sneer. “I’m taking her first. I wanna plant my seed deep inside of her…” His hands reached out to grasp the sorceress’ thighs and push them back, resting her knees against her chest as he practically folded her in half to do so; Voss letting it happen, practically.

And then, in the simplest terms, the Archer got his cock out.

It slid forth from a horizontal opening on the Lizardman’s groin; standing at attention and resting atop her snatch. It was a clear contrast to the reptile; fleshy, pink, and girthy. The head was narrow, and it was slick; coated in its own natural lubrication, smearing it onto the girl’s body. Below his shaft rested a pair of scaled balls covered in the same, thick slime; filling and swelling with blood and virile swimmers for Ninc’s friend. He grinded back and forth, slathering more of that clear, thick ooze onto Voss, as she cooed and tipped her head back, loving every second of the foreplay. This was bad; he was just beginning, and she was already lost to the pleasures…but…surely, Doull was doing better, right? She could have fought off her captor and—

**_SLICK! SLICK! SPLORCH! GLCH!_ **

Ninc’s attention was drawn to the Berserker on Doull. He had wasted not an ounce of time. The Amazon and him were standing, with one of her feet on the ground, and the other on his shoulder, bracing both arms against the tree as he sawed in and out of the girl’s body. And, clearly, he was not only more vigorous than the Archer, but he was larger as well; both in length, and thickness, as a deluge of their combined juices dripped to the floor, Doull’s cries of ecstasy rising as her eyes began to roll up slowly, tongue hanging out as she shamelessly gave in to the madness of pleasure. Every time the bastard pulled out enough, the assassin could see his cock. Thicker and larger than the Archer’s clearly; it stretched Doull’s slit out each time he rammed inside, as his own, heavier balls clapped against her labial lips, earning a moan from the girl each time. Her head lifted, kissing and licking along his jawline, submissively offering every ounce of herself up to their reptilian captors...she had given up entirely.

It wasn’t long before the same, lewd moans came from Voss; the Archer’s cock plunged into her, as her legs were wrapped around his back tightly, barring him from escape until he planted his seed deep inside of her body. And sure enough, that was what the assassin heard in excruciating detail from both women.

**_Splort...splort...splort..._ **

Their balls were pulsating, and they were draining their pent up, hard worked load into the slits of his friends. And the blissful moans sounding from them both told him they were loving every second of it...their minds were not theirs, and the pleasure had taken full control of them.

Ninc…didn’t know what to make of this situation. He did have an emotional attachment to both these women…but not enough to have lust for them…at least nothing outside of stray thoughts. But, he couldn’t deny that there was a sense of…morbid curiosity in what was happening…but regardless, he had to get free. Kill these bastards, and get her friends to safety.

To avenge Famon.

He pulled, and pulled…and at last, he felt himself fall from the tree; landing in a heap and wasting no time in slashing away the bolas binding his legs, as he rose. Dagger in hand, the assassin focused his eyes to both the Lizardmen defiling his friends, and before he could strike…the voice called.

“Attack either of them, and your fate will be far worse than being controlled, more than simply slain as well.” The Alpha was seated on a log, surveying the entire situation, soon rising, and grasping that wooden blade. “You could run as well…you won’t save them, but you could save yourself.” The sounds of the sex and the mewls of his friends grew…both options had many faults in them as both ; if he ran, they could easily give chase and kill him. And, if he somehow got away, then Doull and Voss would be lost forever.

…but if he stayed to fight, then he could have a chance at bringing them both home.

Dagger in hand, the assassin decided to stand his ground, glaring down the apparent leader…before he heard him utter something.

The obsidian teeth on the blade suddenly igniting to a blinding, glowing blue color was unexpected, nor were the flames on them too. He could see strange, foreign markings carved into the wood as well, all glowing the same bright color as the obsidian teeth of the sword; no doubt the source of the power for this mysterious weapon.

“Come now, assassin. Face me, and not them…and I shall grant you a hero’s greatest wish; a demise, worth celebrating.”

He gave Ninc no time to think; he shot for the assassin, and his vision was engulfing in blue when he had swung that twisted blade right for him at last…

________________________________________

“The humans have been…dealt with, accordingly; we cleaned the females up from Gazzu and Brox’s fun and I’ve dispatched them to intermingle with the humans with the subminimal hints and commands given, while also bringing the nearly dead assassin to the nearest healer.” The camp they had established was a fairly sized one; situated in a cave deep into the forests, with wooden barrier spikes surrounding the mouth to keep away any wildlife and interlopers. The camp had a few commodities: four tents for each of the Lizardmen living there, a roaring campfire with a cooking pot situated over it, a few various weapons racks from raids, and lastly a circular, wooden table where they all sat. Qrot rolled his hand, as he rested the other on the table, continuing on with what he was speaking about. “They’ll recover their memories yes, and what happened, but with the commands I planted, their minds will rationalize not seeking us, and also rationalize my commands.”

“Good. That should shake up the local guilds, and deflect some of the heat away from us until we’re capable of furthering our plans. We need to perform a few more raids so we can amass some food for later.” Tratasz reached his hand out, grasping a stone cup of tea from the table, and bringing it close, scaled palms warmed from the warm brew. “Gazzu, any information on the surrounding locale?”

“Ah, shit…um…we’re…still hidden—”

“Ughhh...of course, he didn’t scout the area, like he was told.”

“Hey, fuck you, Brox! I was busy—”

“Busy watching the Fauns bathe, and not doing as you were told. Tch, I expected nothing and was still disappointed.”

“Least I have a sex drive, not unlike you! Probably can’t even get hard unless Tratasz commands you to—”

“ENOUGH!” The Alpha’s sudden outburst silenced both the seedy Archer and the onyx Berserker; both Lizardmen falling silent and nodding. “Look, we cannot afford to fight among ourselves and harm each other, especially with our foes still so plentiful, and our goal so far away.”

“That reminds me, Tratasz…what is our goal? Our long-term idea? Why did you rally us together?” The chair slid back, as the bone-armored Lizardman rose, beginning to walk away from the table, feet resonating with light pap sounds as he approached the mouth of the cave, soon halting.

“Do you remember the war, Qrot? The overlord Lich who rallied the monsters together to subjugate the humans and their allies? To save them, from themselves?”

“Of course; I fought in it, or rather I healed many of the lizardmen who fought. What of the ringleader?”

“He and I were friends before he had become a Lich; before the war. When I had heard he had perished, I was heartbroken…and when he returned in death, I swore an oath to protect him no matter what, no doubt because of my weakness from him dying the first time. When those heroes stormed his castle, and killed him with the Banesword…I broke my oath, and the war was lost. The abuse, torment, and hunting that befell all monsters in the ten years after was no better. Even now, they still hunt us like animals, and use us for a myriad of reasons, such as profit, sport, entertainment…and even for apparel. The Lizardmen, are not exempt from this.”

“A history lesson is unneeded, Tratasz…what is your intent?”

“Fulfilling a second oath. After the war had ended, and I first-hand witnessed the animosity and lust for revenge man and their compatriots had towards all of us, I swore to strike back at them, and make them pay for their torment to us.”

“So, we’re going to take justified revenge for them taking senseless revenge?”

“In a sense…did you amass the ravens I had asked?” The shaman nodded. “Then I am going to attach a letter to every single one of them, with a message written in our people’s sacred tongue…a calling to all lizardmen. To any lizardman, lizardwoman, and even hybrids in between genders and species with our blood in their veins, I will beseech them to rally to us…and stand with us. We will strike at the humans for their abuse and torment of monsters and the like; to create the world my friend wanted, where we stand united. Their greed and twisted morals hold them back from seeing the truth…and as such, we will cleave it into their minds.” The others nodded in agreement, though it didn’t take long for Gazzu to finally ask something; a valid question.

“Yeah but…what’re we gonna call this union? This weird army of Lizardmen?”

It was as if their minds aligned, as a name finally came forth.

“The Hunting Pack.”


	2. A Call Answered In Gusto

The maintenance and upkeep for the camp was always an annoying time for the lizardmen; every member had a job, and stuck to it as best they could. While they had a lot to handle, there wasn’t anyone else to handle such tasks. The ravens and other means of communication had been sent out a week ago, and unfortunately, there hadn’t been anyone to respond. While by no means did the Alpha expect there to be a giant turnabout in such short time…when the time moved to a month without any sign of Lizardmen allies, he grew to resume the pack’s original plans, but he maintained a hope that others would come. 

They were in this together, no matter what. 

* * *

“Qrot, do you think we’ll find more allies?” The Alpha and the Shaman sat atop a large cave’s entrance, staring into the distant horizon of the forest. The green canopy stretched as far as they eye could see, as the picturesque blue sky was marred by only a few fluffy white clouds; a perfect, serene day, in other words. The confident, Alpha lizardman stood with the aged, Shaman, the two of them spending their time as they always did when idle…reflecting. Tratasz turned his bone-armored head down to look at Qrot, as the latter sipped from his wooden cup of tea. “It’s been about a month or so; it doesn’t take that long to get here.”

“It does take time though, friend; time and hope. Not every lizardman is as intelligent as we are. Many are savage, and almost feral; scrutiny and human torment does that. Our message might not have been delivered, and if it has, it may take the recipient a very long time to come to us. Could be days…perhaps even weeks. Maybe even years.” Silence fell between the two of them. “…what is our endgame goal, Tratasz? What do we intend to gain from attacking the humans and their allies?” 

“A revolution. They slaughter, kill, and torment us and many other races because we chose a side during the war they didn’t like. Even with it over, they still choose to persecute those who fought, and the monsters trying to induct themselves into polite society face extreme racism and scrutiny…they’re just too scared to be staring down mankind’s blade. They’d rather face annual beatings from the pommel, than be struck down by the blade.” His fist clenched, as his maw formed a tight scowl, eyes still glued to the horizon beyond. “Scattered or submissive; that is what mankind expects from us, and for a while it’s what they’ve gotten. I want to change that. Their blade comes down to strike at monsters like us, and so I plan to lift my own to stop theirs, and behind me, I plan to stand with our people, and to accent ourselves not as the humans’ stepping stool, but as their equal, like the orcs and elves.” 

“You demand their acceptance?” 

“No, I demand their respect, and then our solace.” Qrot sipped his drink once more, and tapped his staff against the ground, eyes closing for a few seconds…before a smile formed on the Shaman’s maw. 

“You shall have something; I’m sensing a large mass approaching our basecamp. Many beings are coming, though I cannot pinpoint who or what they are. What I can say is that there’s twelve of them; not an army but possibly a militia.” Tratasz’s maw sharply turned into a snarl, as the obsidian toothed blade was pulled out; the rocks igniting blue once more as the Alpha turned his eye to Qrot in a flash. 

“Get the others into the cave and have them start preparing our resources for transport. If it really is a militia coming to route us, I’ll either kill them all myself, or fall in the effort.” He turned sharply to look at the Shaman, and could see the concern emanating from him. “This isn’t up for debate, Qrot; I’d rather lose myself than my pack.”

“I know; it’s never up for debate when it comes to our safety, I recall.” The Alpha leapt off without any hesitation, plummeting to the ground and slamming his feet into it before his blade was bore, and he stared down the encroaching force that had come.

Disbelief clung to him…for they were Lizardmen! Various sizes and shapes; they were all armed to the teeth, and all standing before him, with two of them not even Lizardmen in general, and with a few appearing almost as hybrids as well! But, one thing remained abundantly clear; they had all come to their cave…to them. 

One of them; a navy scaled, lean one, approached Tratasz first, armed with some sort of odd firearm in hand. He seemed like a spokesperson, and of course, he saluted to him as well, in the same tribal manner their ilk all used. 

“Took us some time,” His voice was a bit sibilant, and betraying some youth. “But, we all got together, and we made for this place. Sorry if we kept ya waitin’, chieftain.”

“Hmph, better late, than never,” Tratasz turned to look at all of them, a sense of pride welling up in his chest from the notion that his plan could be fully realized. It wasn’t an army, no, but seventeen Lizardmen was far better than only four. “You’re all willing to fight for our cause, even those among you who are not true Lizardmen?”

“Every single one of us; we’ll follow your commands to the ends of the planet if we must.” Exactly what Tratasz wanted to hear. This would do nicely. The slight **_boof_** to his right told him Qrot had dropped down as well; the Shaman merely giving a slight chuckle.

“I was right; weeks.” Still, it was good to know he was as jovial as Tratasz was. “I’ll go tell the others to stop preparing the supplies for transport—”

“Actually, have them keep preparing them for transport,” Tratasz didn’t know if it was the confidence in having a group, or the idea of being able to do so much more…but something came to mind in a flash. “A mere cave is no place for a force such as this…we need something bigger. We need something greater.” 

“Greater?” Qrot’s inquiry wet unanswered, as Tratasz started to pace, eagerly thinking. 

“We’ll need a bigger base of operations before we can actually get ourselves moving…and I think I know where we can begin…” 

* * *

Once more, Koshk inspected the aged, shotgun-esque weapon, shaking his head, casting his steel colored eyes towards the violet, starry sky. He was an odder lizardman: a lean body type with lengthy, gangly arms, and a rectangular head. His tail wasn’t as long as the others, and his scales were a deep navy-blue color, with a grey underbelly, sharing the same scheme as the rest. His steel colored eyes returned to look at his weapon; the stocky, steel colored rifle like weapon he dubbed “The Scrap Rifle” …a decent weapon he designed and made himself. His forearms and palms were wrapped in dirty brown bandages, and his lower body was adorned with loose-fitting tan shorts, with a black belt. The Gunner’s eyes were on the other Lizardmen as a few sat around a campfire, the others preparing for a raid on a town the leader of this pack had told them all about: Dunwick as it was called. He didn’t know a lot about it but, hopefully the one called Tratasz explained more about it before they…y’know, hit it. 

It’d be quite dumb to raid a place they knew nothing about, right? At least not without a solid plan. 

“Hey, what brought you here?” The speaker on his left was a deep one; Koshk turning to look up at another lizardman. His entire body was more muscled than the Gunner, and his underbelly a tan color, with the rest being a bright cyan hue instead. A sharp horn rested on the tip of his nose, and his crimson colored eyes were affixed to the leader. He wore more refined armor; an iron vambrace along his right arm, and a girthy pauldron from the same metal, with a pair of cuisse and greaves for his lower body, and faulds made from velvet cloth, even adding a loincloth to his front from the same matter. His weapon? A very large greataxe; the weapon almost fit for a giant, yet somehow this lizardman held it with one hand, though clearly, he could not swing it with full speed…it was meant for crushing, battering strikes. 

“I came here with my brother after I found him...we had some issues due to the humans. Thought to put ‘im in a circus.”

“Shit, that’s fucked up; worst they did to me is sell my dad’s work as their own ‘cause he’s a lizardman...and then they burned down our forge.”

“You were a smith?”

“Damn right; learned from the best! Name’s Ornox, by the way. Brought my great axe for this shit too; wanna make a difference with this bigshot chieftain and make those humans respect us.”

“Or shit their pants at our name. Either’s fine.” Koshk could see he and Ornox would get along well, though the two of them piped down as they watched Tratasz pace past the fire; he was about ready to give the raid briefing. 

“The raid will commence in a very secure, firm pattern; one that should ensure we don’t lose anyone so long as all of you are focused. We can call this gauging your ability; this will determine if you go on raids, or stay at our new basecamp and do nothing.” The exact opposite Koshk wanted. “Now, Dunwich is a decent village, walled off by wooden walls, meant to keep out monsters such as goblins, kobolds, and even basilisks. As a result, with some tweaking, it could be perfect for our basecamp. It even has a forge for weapons too, and other things, based on the recon Gazzu performed for this location. Now, here is how it’ll go. Ornox, the Crusher for the pack,” The big lizard nodded when his name was called. “Will go attack the front gates and break through, while the rest of us use our...natural abilities to scale the walls and get inside of the village. Now, the rules inside are simple; you neutralize non-lethally if you can, but if they’re armed, you don’t waste time. Kill them, and knock out the villagers. They all have use to us, and so because of that, we need as many as we can get. Don’t slaughter the villagers unless you have no choice.” While Koshk had no idea what the Alpha would want the humans for, he felt it’d be wise not to question him. “Take a few more minutes to prepare yourselves before we begin moving. Travel in teams of four, save for the team with Ornox; that one will be a five man one.” And with that, they were left to their own vices; another Lizardman moving over to join the duo that was Koshk and Ornox. 

He looked almost even in height with Tratasz, armed with a metal spear. His scales were a dull maroon color, with his underbelly being an olive color, and eyes of a sharp tan color. He wore a manica made from silver metal, and faulds made from leather, complete with the ever-common trend of having a loincloth as well. Uniquely, he had several quills along only the back of his head, and quite a gut to him as well; he wasn’t overweight, no, but it was clear he was packing some extra weight. Koshk wasn’t sure how to feel about that, outside of knowing this one liked to indulge in food. 

“Pardon,” His voice was stout and gruff, with a hint of an accent. “Do you know a lizardman who looks downright feral: long claws, wild look in the eyes, and a tendency to bite?” Koshk just...sighed, nodding soon after. 

“What’s he doing this time?”

“He’s in a tree, screeching at a bird’s nest. Didn’ wanna assume but I had a hunch you two knew one another.”

“Hmm, Ornox, gimme a moment.” The Crusher nodded to him as he walked, Koshk noticing the slightly fat Lizardman walking with him. “Why’re you coming?”

“Help, just in case...also don’ wanna come off as dickish. Name’s Rhax, by the way; the big fella in charge gave me the title of Spearman.” 

“Koshk, and Gunner; you’re fine, Rhax, also. I had a hunch something like this would happen...just hoped it’d happen later.” The two reptiles reached said tree, where already a few of them were sitting around, staring up at the lizardman in the tree, now literally devouring a large bird that made the mistake of pecking him. 

Oddly, he looked a lot like Koshk did, but with many differences, such as a shorter height, and a harness over his chest, and longer, serrated claws instead of moderately long talons. His eyes were far wilder, and he wore grey shorts instead of brown ones, with what looked like shackles on his forearms and shins, with a clear metal collar around his neck; the destroyed chains rattling as he gorged himself. A sharp hiss from the Gunner made him lift his head, and a firm point to the ground made him drop down...and spit out the half-eaten bird. 

“...Kauzk....” The Gunner could hear someone approaching; not even looking up to know it was Tratasz...the commanding aura he felt did that for him. When he did look up, Tratasz’s arms were crossed, and the Alpha had a slight frown on his maw, from disappointment, not anger. 

“Koshk, I assume you two know one another?”

“...yeah...he’s my brother; Kauzk. Just...excuse him...he was stuck in a circus for most of his life. Got kidnapped and basically used as a sideshow attraction and—” Tratasz’s hand went up to silence the Gunner’s words, as Koshk bit his tongue and remained silent. 

“I’m not upset about your brother’s antics; the shackles, collar, and scars to his back tell me he’s had a very hard and rough life. I don’t expect him to be a model lizardman either; the only issue here is his antics could give us away. We can’t afford to botch this raid, since we need that basecamp. Can you keep him in line long enough to get that done?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“I’ll hold you to that. You, your brother, the Spearman, and the Crusher will be working together. The four of you will be part of the entrance team.”

“Entrance team?”

“Indeed; you’ll provide cover and defense for Ornox as he breaks down the wooden gates. Dunwich only has one way in, as the village is surrounded by fifteen-foot wooden spike walls...so you can imagine that the average villager doesn’t have the means to scale those, whereas we do.” 

“And once the doors are down, we go in and kill the guards?”

“Cull the militia, and knock out villagers. Simple enough. Once we’re in, you four will be guarding the gates to ensure none get out; we can’t afford even one human to escape...otherwise this camp won’t be secure for our new base.”

“What if it’s an armed villager trying to escape?” 

“Silence them as you see fit. As much as I hate to say it, they’re expendable. They can inspire hope in their peers, and hope leads to them trying things they’ll sorely regret.” Made sense. Still, the Alpha walked away, and the slight crowd began to dissipate, leaving Koshk there with Rhax, and Kauzk.

“Well, good to know what the objectives’re.” The Spearman noted, as his eyes were back on Koshk. “Means we’ll be working together; hopefully we all do well.”

“I’m sure we will; if we don’t, then this pack might face some hard times. We’re stagnant and divided...we can’t afford such a thing right now.” Still, Koshk remained optimistic about this, even as he pat his brother’s head.

He had a good feeling about this. 

* * *

It didn’t take long to get in position; Koshk, Ornox, Rhax, and Kauzk all standing before the oak brown wooden gate that protected Dunwich. It was a good bit taller than they were, though a myriad of scents tickled the Gunner’s nose as well...some sweet ones...and some sharper ones. 

**_CRASHK!_ **

Koshk was drawn from his stupor; Ornox was already working. Already, screams erupted, as the Gunner heard people scrambling and running about. He could also see someone plant themselves in what looked like a watch tower...and he had a crossbow. 

**_BAM!_ **

Koshk decided to fire first; the smoke wafting from the barrel of the Scrap Rifle as he watched the man fall dead, Ornox ceasing his chopping for a moment to turn to stare down at the Gunner.

“What sorta gun is that?”

“Scrap Rifle; fires metal shards with the same strength as an average Dwarven Shotgun would. Not as powerful, but that doesn’t really matter when your target’s wearing cloth armor...it’d be a miracle if he survived,” Opening a latch near the upper, back portion of the rifle Koshk poured in some more metal filings from a hollowed out horn, much like what people used to keep gunpowder in, before letting the horn fall to his side before he fired again, taking out another crossbow wielding militant. “Keep cleaving the gate, before they get smart and realize this thing’s range.”

“Right,” Ornox braced himself, and lifted the great axe with both hands before bringing it into the door with all the force he had; wood splintering from the strike as the doors shot inwards again, but refused to outright give up. Another smash, and they could see that the doors wouldn’t last. 

“Keep smashin’ em, Ornox, before—” Koshk saw another ranged guard...and he screamed, before blood splattered against the wall. The Gunner knew why and it was...a problem; in the blink of an eye, his brother had scaled the wall, and leapt right into the watch tower to rip him apart, like a demented fox into a hare’s den. 

“...your brotha’s a tough one.” Koshk didn’t want to agree with Rhax but, it was true. Still, he couldn’t focus on it; a good strike later and the doors finally caved in. The gate swung open, and the three of them were able to advance in, a few armed villagers rushing at them finally...they were dead set on defending their home. 

**_CRISHK! SQUICH! CRUNCH!_ **

Rhax was first to act; moving quite fast for someone of his size, making short work of three of the attacking humans before grabbing someone else, lobbing them for Ornox; the Crusher bringing his great axe down atop them in stunning teamwork. They’d just met today, and now they were already fighting as if they’d been fighting side by side for years! 

The power of the lizardmen, clearly. 

“RAUUUGH!!!” Koshk heard something splatter behind him; turning to see Kauzk literally mauling someone like a bear would, shaking them from side to side while lashing at their torso with his claws, ending their life. 

...the Gunner could also see a dagger in the dying human’s hands; his brother saw that he was in trouble, and acted in a heartbeat to save him. 

“...thanks, bro.” Kauzk rushed past and kicked someone square in the chest, sending them against a wall before bashing them against it; the four of them beginning a path towards the center of the village as per Tratasz’s instructions. The village itself wasn’t a very...notable one; the houses were made from the same sort of wood the gates were...humans had a tendency to use wood and stone for most things...Koshk had to appreciate the ingenuity of that. Wood was easy to manipulate for infrastructure; offered a lot of defense as well from foes.

Well...not foes like them, of course. The Gunner estimated this whole little raid took about twenty minutes, give or take...and since he didn’t smell any lizardman blood, it told him that he and the others did exceptionally well at their tasks. 

Time to go collect the spoils. 

* * *

“Well, the raid’s been complete, and this village is now ours. By my calculations, there should be a home for each of you to decorate as you see fit.” Tratasz stood before a roaring bonfire, where at least nine remaining humans rested nearby; on their knees with their hands bound behind their backs and secure via strong ropes. The vast majority of them were women, clad in mostly loose-fitting tan or green dresses and outfits to preserve modesty, with only a single male...one of the few villagers who didn’t take up arms to fight them. 

From what Koshk was informed, that man had actually tried to gather what he could, and flee; he surrendered to them out of fear. 

Least he was smart. 

“Still,” Tratasz continued with his speech, the Gunner sitting up on his wooden barrel, as he listened to the Alpha. “We have nine humans here to do as we wish to them, so once they’re dealt with, we’ll begin moving things from the cave and carting them here. Qrot, did you complete the spell?” The Shaman nodded, and walked towards the humans, Koshk watching in morbid fascination as two other Lizardmen were quick to grab the man by his arms and drag him away from the females, and closer to Qrot. His staff held in one hand, the aged lizardman knelt a bit, and press his finger to the man’s forehead. 

**“Taken Mind.”**

A spell Koshk didn’t recognize; it’s effects became known in an instant. A sharp, gold light emanated from the man’s eyes, as a pained, agonized scream left his mouth. He convulsed, quaked, and spasmed before the Shaman released him, and he fell to the ground, still and silent, aside from labored, estranged breathing that left the women both relieved, and terrified. 

“Psst, Rhax...what kinda spell was that?” The Spearman looked up once his reading, and glanced towards the man who looked almost to be in a silent, sleepy seizure. “I’m no studier of magic but that looked like a dangerous spell.”

“Ya’d be correct. Taken Mind’s a very dangerous spell. Ya basically destroy a sentient mind ‘n rebuild it with your own desires and intentions. Sorta like resettin’ ‘em in favor of what you want.”

“Shit...the Shaman’s totting around some powerful spells if he can do that.” Koshk felt more and more that joining this pack was for the best; he doubted anyone wanted to be on the receiving end of a spell like that...unless they were into some weird shit, of course. Still, refocusing, the Gunner could see the unconscious man was being dragged away, for clearly nefarious purposes, leaving the eight women. 

“Please! Just let us go! Let us gooooo!” She was already crying and trying to free herself from her bindings; Qrot looking over to her, and lifting his hand...she was about to share the same fate as the man—

“When do we get to the fucking?” Koshk was...not expecting a wiry Archer to spew that, clearly growing impatient as he was perched on a roof. “We ain’t gotta fuck their brains up right now...could do something else.” Others began to nod in agreement, and even Koshk found himself pondering that...pondering the notion of fucking the captives, instead of mind-rending them outright. 

“...hmm...Qrot, hit them with a decent lust spell...” The panic in the women’s eyes blossomed into full blown terror as the Shaman approached them, extending his staff and pressing it into the ground. 

“ **Succubus’ Mist.** ” From all around, a deep, pink tinted mist rose, that with a wave quickly engulfed the women, leaving only their figures visible through the thick cloud.

Seconds later, their panicked, terrified screams transitioned into groans and moans of delight. As the cloud faded, Koshk could see the results of the spell; some of them had flushed faces, some were fidgeting, and one was openly trying to grind herself against whatever she could. The spell worked in a flash, and all of them were aroused to the point of insanity.

“Their minds are too clouded by lust to think rationally; do as you will.” The Shaman turned to leave, and the others fell upon them like wolves to a fresh kill. The Gunner could already hear the sounds of ripped fabrics and bodies slapping together. The women didn’t stand a chance, and now not a single one of them wanted to from what it sounded like. The ecstatic moans, lewd suckling sounds, and a myriad of other things were the chorus to anoint their goal; fucking up the humanoid races...and in a way, literally fucking them too! 

...sounded like a decent life to Koshk. 

He could already see what was going on too: a girl was being spitroasted between two of the pack, her convulsions and eagerness telling him she was loving every second of it as another rode one of them, mouth unoccupied but her chest glazed in thick, white seed. Ornox himself had a girl against the wall and was plowing her with enough force to shake the wall, probably not even hearing the sounds of her deafening cries of lust, as Rhax pinned another to the ground in a primal, yet lusty mating press, to ensure none of the Spearman’s seed escaped her womb. 

Even Kauzk was having fun; he had a girl mounted and was humping away at her hard enough to bruise those milky cheeks of hers! Everyone was enjoying themselves immensely...but Koshk knew this was the beginning. 

He didn’t know how long their reign would last...hell, he wasn’t even sure they could do as Tratasz said and make mankind fear them!

...but that didn’t mean Koshk wasn’t willing to take a shot at it regardless. Needless to say, he was a pretty good one. 


End file.
